


The Devil In The Tardis

by Delirious_Comfort



Category: Doctor Who, The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/F, Rated M for later Chapters, Romantic Fluff, the tardis is cerulean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 13:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delirious_Comfort/pseuds/Delirious_Comfort
Summary: The Doctor crashes after a regeneration. The Doctor is Andy. Because I can't for the world of me see Miranda as a companion. So obviously I had to make her a companion.





	The Devil In The Tardis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iimzadi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iimzadi/gifts).



The Doctor had never really seen how beautiful the Tardis was, until she was plummeting to her death, the Tardis still floating in space as flames licked the wooden box left and right. There was something absolutely stunning about the sight in front of her and something absolutely terrifying as the Tardis grew smaller until the Doctor couldn't see it at all anymore.

Not even a full minute ago, the Doctor had been staring at herself - which was weird in itself - in the mirror. The old face replaced by a young new thing, a woman even. The grey, short hair now long and brown. She barely had time to take a closer look before the Tardis expelled her into space.

"It's still me, you stubborn mule," she shouted, knowing full well that the Tardis couldn't hear her. And if it could, it definitely chose to ignore her cries. Reaching inside her pockets she pulled out what she hoped would be the sonic screwdriver, instead she was now staring at a measly pen.

"I hope you know what you're doing, old girl," the Doctor said before losing consciousness.

* * *

 

Miranda sighed. "I don't understand why it's so difficult to confirm an appointment."

"I know. I'm so sorry, Miranda. I actually did confirm last night."

Miranda waved her hand, dismissing the words. "Details of your incompetence do not interest me. Tell Simone I'm not going to approve that girl she sent me for the Brazilian layout. I asked for clean, athletic, smiling. She sent me dirty, tired and paunchy. Tell Richard I saw the pictures that he sent for that feature on the female paratroopers and they're all so deeply unattractive. is it impossible to find a lovely, slender, female paratrooper? Am I reaching for the stars here? Is it–"

Squinting her eyes she looked behind Emily. "Who is that?"

"Who is who?"

"Her," Miranda said. She got up from her chair and dismissed Emily's gawking and waited for her to step aside. If it wasn't for the fact that she was seeing it with her own two eyes, she would have laughed at the retelling of what unfolded in front of her.

Behind the second assistant's desk lay a body. A breathing body as far as she could tell, but that was as far as her assessment would go.

"Get security."

"Right away," Emily said, her fingers already dialling the needed number on her cell phone.

"How did you miss a body just...laying there, Emily? Perhaps you need to schedule an appointment with an optician while you're at it."

She stepped closer to the girl, who still hadn't moved a muscle. Quickly dismissing the thought of poking the girl with her Alexander McQueen heels, she opted for a loud cough instead.

"Get up."

Nothing. She eyed the glass of water on Emily's desk. Before Emily could stop her, she dumped the contents on the girl's head. "I said, get up."

As the body stirred, Miranda took a step back. She looked up at Emily, who was furiously gesturing around her as she spoke into the phone. A loud intake of breath finally made Emily pay attention to what was happening on the floor.

"Where is security," Miranda hissed.

"They're on their way up now, Miranda."

They were both startled as the girl on the floor suddenly jumped up, tilted her head back slightly, seemingly took in her surroundings and frantically started patting down her body.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Do I... Do I look human to you?"

Miranda frowned. "What are you doing here? More importantly, _how_ did you get up here?"

"Big boom," the girl said. "The Tardis doesn't like regenerations."

"The what now?"

"Tardis. Big blue box. Currently orbiting in space. Or so I hope. 'S all good. She'll come back to me when she's ready. She's just throwing a fit."

"M-Miranda, you shouldn't stand so close to her. She's obviously escaped from the nearest institution."

"Nonsense, Emily," Miranda said. "One might be delusional, but we shouldn't assume she's been institutionalized." She looked up at the girl as a loud snort was heard. "Something I said?"

The girl nodded. "I most certainly am a madman. Well, woman, I suppose. It's quite strange. I can't remember the last time I was a woman. It must have been centuries ago. Perhaps when I was very young. There've been so many bodies. It's nice, though, isn't it? Would you say I'm attractive?"

Miranda watched as the girl twirled around. "Not quite."

"Bummer. No matter though. Now, which one of you ladies is going to tell me where I am."

"New York City."

The girl frowned. "New York? That shouldn't be possible. Not after Amelia..." she trailed off. "The timeline would've collapsed in on itself. We should all be dead. Are you sure we're in New York?"

"Quite so," Miranda said. "Who are you?"

"I'm the Doctor."

"Doctor Who?"

"Exactly," the Doctor said enthusiastically. "Now, why am I here? What's happening. Are there Daleks? I do so like my Daleks. Well, like is a big word. I hate them, they hate me, it's a long story. Not Daleks, then? Cyberman? Zygons? Don't tell me... You're a Zygon."

"Zygon? You are not making any sense."

"You know," the Doctor said. "Shape-shifting alien. Able to mimic the appearance of other living creatures. So, are you Zygon?"

"She," Emily spat out, "is Miranda Priestly. Editor-in-chief of Runway Magazine. And you," she said, waving her arms up and down, as if it would help to get the Doctor out of the room. "You shouldn't even be speaking to her."

"No Zygon then," the Doctor said, grinning. "I'm starving. I would love fishfingers and custard. Maybe apples. You know, you never know with a new mouth. Get me your most famous New York dish and let's see what happens."

"I will–"

"Do as..." Miranda trailed off, amused. "Do as the Doctor says, Emily."

"What? But, Miranda!"

"Now. Oh, and call off security. In fact, tell them I will be having a word with them later. They should've been up here by now. That's all."

Gesturing towards the Doctor to follow her, Miranda stepped back into her office and closed the door behind them. "Sit."

"I'm not really the sitting type. I think. I am not quite sure yet. It doesn't feel like I'm the sitting type," the Doctor said. Her gaze scanned the room. "That's quite a view for a human, isn't it?"

"Indeed. Now. Am I being punked?"

The Doctor frowned. "What's that? Oh, that's actually quite exciting. A new phrase. Tell me what it means."

"Not being punked then. Did someone hire you? Are you a journalist?"

"I told you. I'm the Doctor."

"Fine. You're the Doctor," Miranda said as she sat down. "Why are you here _Doctor_?"

"I told you. Big boom. Tardis threw a tantrum. Actually, hang on."

Miranda peered over the rim of her glasses as the Doctor stood up and frantically started searching through her pockets. The outfit she was wearing both atrocious and entirely too big for her frame, not to mention it was absolute murder on the woman's complexion.

"Ah! Here it is."

"Here's what exactly?"

"The key. She might be ready now. Let's see shall we?"

Miranda wasn't quite sure what to expect to happen. It most certainly wasn't the faint wheezing noise that seemed to grow louder with every passing second. Nor, the apparition of a wooden police box right in her office. She blinked twice, then blinked again, took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes before putting the glasses back on.

"There you are," the Doctor said as she lovingly stroked the wooden box. "What's gotten into you, hm? You can't just throw me out in the middle of nowhere. We've been over this many, many times before. If you wanna throw a tantrum, at least have the decency to do so after I step outside of the box, hm?"

Miranda was too flabbergasted to speak. The Doctor quickly strode around the Tardis, as if to see it was still intact. A ridiculous notion really. She wasn't quite sure if she wasn't actually being punked and until she knew... she wasn't going to give this woman an inch of satisfaction by asking question. No matter how badly she wanted to know just how in the world the woman had managed to hide an entire police box in her office.

"Let's see what you've got for me this time, hm? At least you're still blue. I appreciate that about you, you know? I would hate to fly around in a red box," the Doctor said, as if joking around with an old friend.

"That is not blue," Miranda pointed out.

"Sure it is."

Miranda stood up from her chair and stepped closer to the Doctor.

"That is not blue. It's not turquoise. It's not lapis. It's actually cerulean. I assume you're also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of a cerulean gowns–"

"Love chap, Oscar," the Doctor interrupted. "Took him for a spin one day. It might have been in 2002 actually. Dates sorta flop around when you me."

Miranda laughed and immediately let it die down when she saw the serious look on the Doctor's face. "You're telling me you _flew_ around with Oscar de la Renta?"

"Sure did. This old girl doesn't just stand around and look pretty, you know. She flies to. In space and in time."

Miranda snorted. "Of course."

"Suit yourself," the Doctor said, before snapping her fingers together.

Miranda's eyes grew wider as one of the doors opened and the Doctor disappeared inside. Part of her wanted to follow after the woman, and part of her wasn't entirely convinced she wasn't still being punked. Her curiosity grew though and with careful steps she found herself standing in front of the opened door. She immediately stepped back. _It can't be_. Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the door and looked around.

"Go on. Say it," the Doctor said. A big grin on her face. Again.

"Your decorating is absolutely awful."

The Doctor frowned. "That's a first. Still, no matter. Let's take her for a spin, shall we?"

Before Miranda knew what was happening, the door closed behind her, the wheezing sound rang in her ears and then her body was slammed hard into the rails on the side of the ramp leading up to the console.

"OH," the Doctor screamed. "You might want to hold on to something. She is still throwing a tantrum, doesn't like it when strangers are aboard."

Miranda felt her stomach churn as her fingers gripped the rails tighter. She was absolutely being punked. She was convinced of it now. There was no way this _blue_ box was actually bigger on the inside or that the _Doctor_ was an actual human being who believed she could fly the police box.

Suddenly, everything stopped and the Doctor flipped a switch.

"We're here."

Miranda growled. "And where would that be."

"Don't know yet. Let's step outside and take a look."

Not being able to speak, Miranda simply nodded and followed the Doctor through the doors. She gasped. It simply couldn't be. She placed a hand on the Doctor's shoulder to steady herself. The Doctor just stood there, grinning like an idiot. "Hipponensis three."

"Do speak in riddles. It absolutely thrills me."

The Doctor shook the hand of her shoulder and turned around. "Hipponensis three. World of the Siblings of Saint Augustine. The year is seven thousand, two hundred and thirteen."

Miranda swallowed thickly. "I am not wearing the right shoes for this."

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
